


A Little Switcheroo

by Vexicle



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-04-13 14:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14114448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexicle/pseuds/Vexicle





	1. Chapter 1

It starts when Francis, in a burst of impulsivity against better judgement, runs into Taro’s classroom, dragging him outside like always.

Lips upwards in an amused smile, Taro simply asks, “What do you want?”

“Takkun, I.” Francis coughs, suddenly feeling a wave of shame washing over him. This is stupid. This is dumb. This isn’t like anything he’s ever asked before, and Francis has half a mind to say ‘Never mind!’ and then wheel a very puzzled Taro back into his classroom.

“Francis?” Taro asks, already looking the part of confused companion.

 _Well, here goes nothing,_ Francis thinks, because he’s never been very good resisting any impulses that come his way. So, he grabs Taro by his shoulders and asks in a voice low from shame, “I was wondering… if we could try something new.”

Taro doesn’t respond for a while, and then Francis really starts panicking over the thought he’s said something wrong - Taro’s culture tends to be a lot quieter than Francis is used to after all, and maybe he’s accidentally offended him or something, and oh god what if he’s messed everything up forever -

“What kind of things?” Taro asks, and amazingly Taro’s mild amusement seems to give way to something much more. Suddenly feeling flustered by the sight of the glint in Taro’s eyes, Francis has to stop for a second before he awkwardly lurches forward and whispers something in his ear. Taro’s eyes seem to narrow a bit, and when he says, “...huh,” Francis wonders he hears a bit of... disappointment?

“It’s fine if you don't want to,” the brunet says quickly, waving both hands rapidly.

Taro grabs Francis’s arms and pulls them toward him. “It’s fine,” he says, his voice carefully neutral although Francis can see he isn't exactly looking at him. “I’ve been… wondering about things like this for some time, honestly.”

Francis feels nothing but a light, airy sensation of pure relief dissipating throughout his entire body. “That’s good,” he says like a total speechless loser. Letting go, Francis then places his hand behind his back, staring at his boyfriend and convinced that his face is absolutely red.

“I’ll see you after school,” Taro says, in a voice which is _far_ too calm for what Francis has just asked of him.

The wires in his mind short-circuiting, Francis can only hang his mouth open like the idiot he is. He doesn't know what makes him do it, but suddenly he bows deeply and scampers off with his head in his hands.

Huffing and puffing, Francis skids into his classroom so hard he almost barrels into he whiteboard and immediately finds his seat, plopping down so harshly Francis actually winces.

 _I need to calm down,_ Francis thinks, breathing laboured and face still red. And so, he pulls his phone out.

Big mistake.

 **Takkun:** You know, you’re really cute when you’re like that.

Francis’s forehead hits the table with a loud thud.


	2. Chapter 2

“I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?” Francis hugs his knees, blushing, looking at the other boy apprehensively. Taro is lying on his back, looking embarrassed. He sits up, fumbles around, finds his underwear and shorts and pulls them back on, rubbing them a little for good measure.

“No, you didn't,” Taro says quietly, a little breathlessly. He shuffles closer to the brunet, messing the sheets up further. His hand hovers over Francis’s shoulder.

“I mean… if it didn't feel good, I must have.” Francis’s voice feels small, even to himself. Burning hot shame settles in his chest. Maybe he was too rough, too fast. He should have asked more.

“Frakkun.” Francis feels one comforting arm around his shoulders. “No, really, you were great. I mean, it wasn't uncomfortable or anything! I… I just… I don't know.” Taro just sighs, slumping against Francis, who by the way, has probably died and gone to some weird combo of heaven and hell.

“Maybe I jabbed too hard?” _Oh my god what if I've scratched his walls out and he's bleeding - no wait no. Not true._ Subconsciously, Francis clenches his soiled hand in a fist to avoid ruining Taro’s clean sheets… any further.

“No, I don't think so,” Taro assures him. “You were really gentle, thank you,” Taro says, his violet gaze flicking over to him curiously. His hand wanders down Francis’s clothed chest as he admits, “I think I’m just not really into it.” His nails get caught in the soft fabric of his green jumper.

Francis’s mouth opens and closes a few times awkwardly. A strange sense of embarrassment settles over him. _Noooo, he's your boyfriend what the hell are you doing?!_ Francis scolds himself. Gulping, he says quietly, “I've done it a few times. It's… amazing.” He blushes even harder at his lewd admission. And Taro’s really nice and quiet and all, so Francis wonders if he's traumatising the hell out of the older boy.

Okay, he's aware that he's sitting around in his own bedroom talking about hands up asses, but it's not like Taro hasn't just experienced it firsthand. Even if it wasn't enjoyable for Taro, and Francis has no idea why.

“If you like it… I'll help you… next time,” Taro says, so quietly that Francis almost can't hear him. Shocked, he whips his head around to see Taro’s shy, but determined expression. “You didn't fail, I just don't think I like it.”

And there's the subtle reassurance that Francis admits he wanted. His stomach twists at the thought of it, reprimanding himself. Is the thought of failure so much more important to him than Taro’s pleasure? He needs to stop getting hung up about that. This isn't about him, it's about them. Francis doesn't like it, somehow, the thought that he'd be bad at this. He just wants so, so badly to make Taro cum, to make him completely and utterly his. That day doesn't seem to be today, however.

Admittedly, he has no prior experience, so failure’s a given, but Taro’s a boy too, isn't he? Francis figures that what little experience he has toying with himself is kind of applicable.

He didn't realise he'd be so prideful, honestly. Maybe if he could toss that ego right out his bedroom window that'd be just swell.

“We can do other things,” Taro says, his voice so unsure it almost sounds like a question. Francis realises he just zoned out for a while, scrambling to undo his mistake.

“Yeah,” he says nervously, chuckling. “Yeah! We don't even have to… do butt stuff, if you don't want to.”

Taro looks at him, evidently puzzling over it for a moment. “I don't think I'd mind. I'm just going to have to be the one doing stuff to _you_.” The black-haired boy cracks a grin as he notices Francis’s small shudder.

“What's the… other thingystuffies a-again?” Francis stammers, blushing and staring stubbornly at his knees. _No no no no stop._

“Mutual masturbation and fro- grinding. For the uninitiated,” Taro replies, almost mechanically. Francis is pretty sure he's looked this up somewhere. Secretly, he's relieved. At least one of them knows what he's doing. Also, what? Did Taro just look stuff up _just_ to know how to please him because that's… really kind of him. Francis decides that this has made him a Very Happy. 

"I haven't tried that," Francis admits. "I think it'll be okay, though." His cheeks warm further at the thought of their cocks sliding over each other, wet precum shining, and almost has to bite back a moan.

"I'd be… more than willing," Taro says. It’s then that Francis realises that though Taro isn't looking at him, the expression is almost sly paired with the flash of sharp teeth.

“Takkun?” Francis asks quietly, as if afraid to shatter the rare sight - and, on second thought, Francis is starting to wonder whether the research was actually for Taro himself. With a gulp, Francis realises that there seems to be a certain glint in Taro’s eyes.

Taro’s eyes flit back to Francis’s. The familiar smile on his face calms his nerves somewhat, but then Taro tightens the knot in Francis’s stomach again when he says, “Would you like to wash your hands?”

Francis doesn't dare breathe. His gaze fixed on the black-haired boy before him, Francis finds himself stammering, “W-why?”

Taro just grins mysteriously. “Because we're going to be here for a while.”


	3. Chapter 3

The running water over Francis’s trembling hands helps to soothe him for a moment; for but a moment, since the instant the jet of water stops he finds warm arms lazily hooking around his waist. Taro murmurs something, and Francis registers the softness of his lips just below his ear the same time he sees Taro lift his head in the mirror. Francis trembles and grips the edge of the sink with lavender-scented fingers.

Francis squeezes his eyes shut, breathing laboured as he feels Taro’s kisses travel downwards. “Takkun,” he murmurs as he feels the other boy’s hands grip insistently at the buttons on his shirt. Trapped like this between his boyfriend and his bathroom sink, Francis doesn’t really know what to do. Would elbowing be rude? Elbowing would totally be rude. Francis shifts a little, but not too much to avoid dislodging the warmth on his back. “Hey, maybe we should get back…”

Taro hums a noise of agreement. “Alright.” With a cheeky wink to the mirror, Taro abruptly quits draping himself all over Francis, disappearing back into his room without a trace. The instant Taro leaves Francis finds himself almost falling forward on shaky legs, the bathroom sink being his only stable grip.

Trying desperately to cool down the heat rising in his body, Francis splashes water all over his red face. He spies his own expression in the mirror, green irises darkened and with more white than usual. _Damn it, he’s really going all out,_ Francis thinks. _Is this for me?_

Somehow, Francis doubts so, if only because the juxtaposition between serious, friendly student council member as well as choir boy and… whatever Taro is being right now is really strange. There’s probably no way he’s acting this out. Which probably means… that this is just a natural side of Taro that he feels fit to reveal now, probably to cause Francis to die of a heart attack or something. Francis clutches at his chest. Is he dying? Can he die right now?

“Fran-chan, are you coming?”

Dying right now would be rather inconvenient.

“I thought I told you not to call me that!” Francis calls back, cheeks puffed out in a chipmunk impression that immediately deflate to normal size upon seeing Taro lounging about on _his bed_. Taro’s blatantly putting himself on display here, with how he’s leaning on his side, propped up on one elbow, legs sensually crossed in a way that Taro probably knows brings attention to his slender shape, from the way he’s smirking… and holy shit this was _not_ a side of Taro that Francis had ever been expecting to see in all eternity. 

It’s not like he doesn’t know that Taro’s kind of perverted, because they’re teenagers and they’re _all_ kind of perverted, but this? This is so _blatant_ , and somehow he’s never really thought about it much, but… right now Francis feels either blessed, or blessed with a one-way ticket to hell.

It’s a little known fact that Taro’s actually rather strong underneath that unassuming slender appearance of his. Francis finds himself on the receiving end when Taro hooks his arms around his waist again, insistently, dragging him back to bed with a muffled ‘mmph’. He’s on his side, facing the black-haired boy who definitely seems more than a little interested now.

Gently, pale, calloused fingers trace Francis’s side all the way up to his cheek, making him shiver at the familiar sensation. Francis is pretty sure his face is all red and sweat is dampening his shoulder-length strands. Taking a deep breath to get his palpitations under control, Francis steels himself… and promptly drops his gaze, because maybe if looks up he’ll actually die.

“Don’t you know what calling another boy _-chan_ means?” Taro admonishes mockingly, which be all very well and good if not for the _sensual_ way he’s asking such an innocent question. 

As if something’s tickling him, Francis shakes his head rapidly, his mouth dry and his brain skidding to a sudden halt. At this moment, Francis feels a hand resting on his chest, sending ripples up his spine. “It means,” Taro continues, “that we’re rather… close.”

“Like… close like what?”

Taro just laughs. The hand is inching up his chest. “You know, I was kinda surprised when you asked me about stuff today,” Francis hears Taro say in an amused tone. The brunet keeps his eyes stubbornly at the clock on the wall, but it’s in no way helping him keep his cool. “I kinda figured you’d want something to prepare you first.”

Francis feels chills run down his back. He can’t decide if he likes the way Taro says _stuff_. “Like… like what?” he asks, struggling to find his voice.

“Well…” Taro’s voice dips back to its normal pitch for just a moment. “As always, please tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” Taro says pleasantly, so serene that his teeth on Francis’s neck feels akin to dumping cold water on someone at the sauna. It takes mere milliseconds, however, for Francis to decide that this is much more pleasant than the sensation of ice. 

The ripples of sensation are… good, really good. Francis decides he likes it. Shivers run up the brunet’s spine and he clutches awkwardly at the folds of Taro’s shirt. Subconsciously, he cocks his head a little to allow Taro more room. “H-hey,” he says quietly, all of a sudden quiet from sheer embarrassment. Francis doesn't really know what he’s feeling, really, except that he kinda wants some more and Taro is here and the moans he’s making are really… loud.

Somehow, Taro gets the message. He withdraws, but after taking one look at Francis’s face concludes it wasn't for any lack of enjoyment. A finger traces the edge of Francis’s pale neck, making him shudder again, down to Francis’s collarbone. His mind chooses this very inconvenient time to be reminded of the fact that Taro’s body is warm and pressed close to his own. Francis gulps, finding his throat parched.

“U-uh,” Francis says like a lame loser, but at the same time his heart’s flopping around like a fish on land, and Taro’s giving him _that_ look again, so he thinks it’s probably justified. Face very red, Francis bites his bottom lip and continues looking at Taro like a deer caught in the headlights. For a few moments, neither speak before Francis finally drops his gaze, licking his lips awkwardly and for some reason deeply ashamed.

Taro starts _giggling_.

Francis’s lips feel dry. Slowly, he licks them again. Taro’s cute. And sexy and hot. But also cute. Francis is probably going to die from overheating. Death. Death is upon him as Taro buries his head in Francis’s neck after wiping his saliva off - hm, now that’s kinda awkward, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter, because Taro’s soft, downy hair tickles and Francis is pretty sure his current heart rate is unhealthy. He loves Taro. Just… really loves Taro. With a grin stretched across his face, Francis strokes his boyfriend’s head softly.

“See, there you are again. I think you’re not really used to stuff like this yet, right?”

“Stuff like…” Francis’s green eyes flit to the window with curtains drawn. Embarrassment washes over him once again like a tidal wave. “...adultish?”

A chuckle from where Taro’s face is pressed up against his neck. Francis shivers. “You’re right,” Taro says in amusement. “Are you okay with it? I mean, I’m pretty sure you liked it, but, you know.”

“Y-yeah, I...um…” Can Taro please stop killing him after every sentence? “I… um…” Taro’s leg brushes against Francis’s crotch and all the blood on his face drains when he realises he’s _hard_. “I… um… that…”

Something tells him Taro’s noticed. “Good,” says the black-haired boy, who shuffles down a bit further to lean forward and nibble at Francis’s collarbone - and it startles a rather loud moan from him. Francis bites his bottom lip, hard, eyes screwing themselves shut.

“It’s alright,” Taro murmurs, ever so soothing and gentle even as his mouth continues to do utterly debauched things to Francis - Taro ventures just a bit higher, biting down just a bit harder and then _sucking_ on the sensitive skin, and it’s glorious and for a second Francis bucks wildly, straining against Taro’s strength.

It’s at this moment when Francis feels fingers thread through his wavy brown strands. The combined sensation makes him shiver, whispering, “Takkun…”

“You okay?”

“Mm.” Francis nods. He feels all fuzzy and fluffy, like his head is in the clouds. He wants Taro. And more. His hands squeeze and fist themselves in Taro’s shirt. “Mm, Takkun, I want…”

“Yes?”

“I’m… I don’t know.”

“Hm,” Taro says by way of a half-reply. Adventurous hands wander to Francis’s shirt. Slowly, sensually, the buttons pop off, exposing more of Francis’s sweat-slick chest to the cool air. 

Francis sends Taro a questioning glance, but the black-haired boy doesn’t seem to notice. He’s smiling that smile again, sharp white teeth that gleam. Taro seems far too preoccupied with reaching out, and… Francis gasps and gives Taro’s shoulders a hard squeeze the moment after he feels Taro do the same to his chest.

“Taa…” Francis swallows, gulping down the sticky ball in his throat. “Takkun, what are you…”

“Nothing,” Taro says lightly, teasingly, the same greedy look written plain over his entire face. 

It hits Francis then, that Taro honestly, truly wants him, all of him. Embarrassment may be making him flushed red to his core, but Francis can’t deny that he feels a little bit of a thrill from it. But still, the way that Taro’s eyeing him with pure, undisguised lust is a first for the usually quiet boy. Now, with his eyes half-lidded, hair dishevelled, and mouth slightly open, Francis feels a pang of _something_ shoot through his body.

“Ah, wait, uhh…”

Taro’s lascivious grin is replaced with a look of concern. With a cough, he straightens his back, though he seemingly has to force himself to look at Francis’s face from the way his eyes keep travelling downwards. “Yes?” he asks, and then Francis realises he hasn’t said anything yet; he was far too busy studying the shape of Taro’s jaw, his deep violet eyes, the curve of his nose and…

Francis coughs, abandoning his hasty train of thought that seems to be spiraling more and more out of control by the second. Green eyes settling on Taro’s lips, Francis stammers out, “I-I… let’s kiss, uh… I m-mean…”

Taro’s tension dissolves into a tender smile. “Of course.” Francis just has enough time to think stupidly about how pretty Taro is when he finds familiar lips pressing against his own. Like it’s instinct, Francis’s mouth opens slightly, allowing Taro’s warm tongue into his mouth. It curls against his own, and distracted as he is, Francis almost bites down when Taro presses against his chest, hooking his arms around Francis’s waist. It’s new and really kinda… rough, and… Francis pulls away, green eyes turned away as he licks his lips. _Takkun… tastes good,_ he thinks inanely.

“I haven’t shaved,” Francis blurts out loud.

“Oh?” Curious, Taro cocks his head. He looks up at Francis before his traitorous eyes dip downwards. “Is that bad?”

Francis awkwardly clutches at his unbuttoned shirt, pulling the flaps together. “No, so I mean… um… it looks kinda weird right now…”

Taro shakes his head gently. Inching forward, hands on his arms, Taro gently coaxes Francis to relax with soothing murmurs. When Francis has been convinced enough to let his unbuttoned mess hang open by the flaps, Taro comments shyly, “And… no, I mean… I like seeing you like this. I mean.” A cough. “Your, uh. Your chest. And I think, well…” Taro’s smile seems to twitch at the edges. “You’re… really hot, Fran-chan.”

 _Fran-chan Fran-chan Fran-chan_ reverberates through Francis’s horrendously frazzled mind. _he just said I’m hot_ and _he really likes me_ and _is that nickname my own from now on?_ all battle it out in his mind for dominance. The physical results of such a clash are just that… Francis feels like he accidentally stopped breathing. Taro likes him. Like that. So much. And from the throbbing in his chest, he really… likes that. Francis feels like there’s a sun blazing bright hot in his heart and it’ll explode. Bashfully, he ducks his head at the praise. “Fr-Fran-chan now, huh?”

“You like it?” Taro lets out a little ‘heh’ of amusement as he senses Francis’s guard dropping. Creeping closer, he presses a kiss to the brunet’s cheek after brushing his hair out of the way. “I knew you’d come around,” he teases. 

“I… I…” Francis is finding it a little hard to speak or breathe or even think with Taro’s hand wandering up his chest like that. The slim hand pauses, waiting for Francis’s signal. When he gives a nod, Taro slides the knuckle of his index finger against one of Francis’s nipple’s, giving it a little flick. Francis finds himself involuntarily gripping at Taro’s shoulders again.

Circling the sensitive bud with his thumb, Taro squeezes it with both fingers. He then promptly has to stop and gently pry Francis’s hands off his shoulders before he dislocates them both. Redirecting them to the sheets, Taro then has free reign to pinch and play with both of them. Francis feels like something in him has short-circuited from pure pleasure as Taro leans forward, peppering kisses along Francis’s pale neck. Hands fisted in the sheets, Francis feels his mouth fall open, panting and huffing occasionally broken by a cry of “ _Taro_ ” punctuated by a long whine.

Involuntarily, his hips spasm in an unconscious demand for more pressure down there. Taro stops, glancing down, and in a curious experiment repositions himself. Propelling himself up higher, Taro gently stuffs a knee in between Francis’s legs. The brunet is about to protest when he rubs it against his straining erection in his pants, shutting him up instantly via knocking the air out of his lungs. One hand goes right in his mouth, his eyes squeezed shut.

Not helping matters any is the fact that Taro seems to have figured out his sensitive spot, just slightly above the middle. “ _Ahh_ , Takk - T-Taro, _mhmm_ -” is the incoherent mumble when Taro locates it and _bites_. Francis rides out short, stuttering breaths, his cock grinding against Taro’s knee. _Is this how it usually is?_ the winded teen thinks, dazed. It somehow feels… so much more then even touching himself on his most heated days. Maybe it’s because Taro’s actually here. If that’s the case, he’s going to indulge in it.

Hands grip the small of the other boy’s back. It’s all blending together and it’s hazy and there’s the familiar sensation rising in his groin, and all Francis can do is lay there helplessly and take it, which is insanely hot for some reason. He should investigate - Francis grits his teeth - _later_ , at another time when Taro isn’t _rubbing_ the tip of his nipples with his thumb - Francis bucks again, receiving his reward in the form of long, hard pressure against his cock that makes him gasp, hips making him thrust again once, twice, before he can finally steady himself and let out the breath he’s been holding… and then fucking Taro thrusts his knee insistently against the bulge in his pants, and damn it he’s not helping at all and at this rate the dam will burst in a matter of seconds.

Francis has all but forgotten how to shut himself up at this point. Pleasure creeps up his spine and seizes control of the knots in his belly. Muscles strain against the unyielding pressure. Fingers fisted in short black locks, it’s all the younger boy can do to moan out “Mmn, aah,” and whisper his lover’s name as the wave of pleasure crashes over him again and again and again, threatening to drag him down, to sink him, and Francis just lets it. 

His eyes squeezed shut, his vision seems to white out for a few seconds as every muscle in his body grows taut. Dimly, he’s aware of the fact that he’s shooting ropes of white, sticky cum in his clothes, but when Francis opens his eyes again he’s far too drowsy to move.

Taro’s face fills his vision, just the tip of his black bangs over his eyes, violet eyes glittering mysteriously. A hand is rubbing his arm, and Francis sighs, letting the gesture soothe him. “Takkun,” he murmurs, suddenly feeling very small, feelings that disappear the instant Taro leans forward and plants a kiss on Francis’s forehead, sweeping away his sweat-plastered bangs.

“You alright?” Taro asks, concerned as always. 

Francis has to take a while to get his heaving (still unclothed) chest under control. “I… I…” he gasps out. Taro’s fingers find his and twine them together. Francis thinks that maybe he holds on to his hand like a little boy, but after his orgasm, he feels just the tiniest bit vulnerable, maybe, so maybe it’s fine, just this once. Childishly, he wants to make Taro his. 

“Yes?” Taro asks patiently. In his haze, Francis thinks that maybe he sees an angel.

“You’ll kill me,” he whines instead.

“But of course. In fact, I plan to do so by the end of this semester.” 

Judging from the smirk settling on Taro’s face, Francis isn’t getting a break anytime soon.


End file.
